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I’m terrible with goodbyes.

October 24, 2011

I didn’t say goodbye to you.

I figured you wouldn’t know either way, so I simply left.

I never really got to know you.

By the time I realized that, it was already too late.

Then it got worse, and I stayed home.

Not that I had a choice in the matter.

You were so far away.

I missed the wake, and the funeral.

I was here, in New York.

Months and months  later, I finally saw your grave.

Easter Sunday. I did cry.

I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you.

But I don’t want to say goodbye.


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One Comment
  1. jenny permalink

    There’s a strong feeling here of lack of closure, Rachel–something hanging, eternally unresolved. Is there a metaphor and an image you could employ in this poem to represent that feeling? A challenge, I know, but this poem is so situated in the speaker’s experience, a moment where we escape to some external image might give a sense of multi-dimensionality to this.

    The stark, bereft tone of it is quite affecting.

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